


You Are My Fire

by thedeviltohisangel



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Protective Tormund Giantsbane
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 09:47:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19850620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedeviltohisangel/pseuds/thedeviltohisangel
Summary: Everly Lannister knows she does not belong in King's Landing. Problem is, nowhere seems to want her.





	You Are My Fire

Everly sat and stared at the fire as it flickered. There was nothing worse than having your world spun on its head. She felt dirty. She felt like she was wrong. Like no amount of water or soap could ever make her clean again.

She was confused about how she felt white hot with rage at her very core but be shivering in her wash bin. It was the conflict of the old and the new worldview that were crashing together in her soul. Fighting for dominance. Fighting to see who she would be when she stepped out of that tub. 

The rumors about who her father really was had been around for as long as she had been able to hear the whispers. Everly had paid them no mind because the actions they were implying that had taken place were wrong. Immoral. Devious. There was no way her mother and her uncle would have participated in such blasphemous activities. But the more the whispers had persisted, the more she had begun to believe them. Her sister Myrcella had asked her one night if they were true. That she had overheard the Septa mutter something under her breath during a needlepoint session one afternoon. She hadn’t had the heart to tell her it couldn’t possibly be true. Hadn’t had the heart to lie to her.

There was a gentle knock on her door which broke her out of her self-loathing trance and snapped her into her persona of Princess. Straight back, face stoic and moving with the grace of a lion.

“Come in.” She picked up the bar of soap that she had discarded on the floor and pretended to be busy washing herself. There was risk in ever showing weakness.

“You left the feast before the pudding came out. It’s your favorite.” Everly froze her movements as she saw that it was Tormund who had entered her room. He was holding a bowl of her favorite dessert which he placed on the table that sat in her room. “Didn’t want you to be unhappy that you’d missed it.”

“Tormund.” He stopped in her doorway where he had been ready to leave her be. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Wildflower.” She chuckled.

“I am afraid I no longer deserve such a title.” Tormund had started referring to her as Wildflower after the incident at Hardhome. In the midst of the carnage of the battle he had looked across the landscape and seen her. Amongst the drabness of the dead and the snow and the fur of the Free Folk she had stood in a purple gown. Like a wildflower rising from the barren earth.

“It is not a title, it is what you are.” 

“A wilted wildflower, maybe.” The soap slowed on her leg. “I don’t think I belong in the North. Everyone thinks I am the child of the most evil creatures participating in a sinful act. They will never view me as anything other than a creature meant to be put down.” Everly noticed the glares of the Northmen wherever she went. She was a Lannister. Her mother had raised her to glow but now she was struggling in her attempt to stamp it out.

“They would have quite a difficult time getting through me in order to do so, I can promise you that.” She believed him. In the short time she had known Tormund he had shown he was fiercely loyal and protective. They never discussed it but she knew the man who had tried to grab her ass in the Great Hall the night before received the crooked nose and blackened eye from the ginger in her doorway. “Your arms are very red. Is the water too hot?”

“I have been trying to get clean,” she whispered, “I am afraid that I will never feel clean.” Her fingers gently traced over the red and irritated skin that was inflamed from her harsh scrubbing when she first began her bath.

“Wildflower…” His voice was so soft that she broke. No one had spoken to her with the reverence that Tormund did. Wrapped up in his voice was warmth and safety and everything she had been missing from her life since the death of John Arryn.

“I feel like I am wrong, Tormund.” He knelt down beside the basin and offered her his hand. Everly took it gratefully. There was something comforting with the image of her tiny, manicured hand wrapped up in his dirtied one. Those hands had killed men. Men who had wronged her. They had worked hard to keep him alive and provide for the people he considered his family. They had been cared for by her in the dungeons of Castle Black. Guided her to safety in Hardhome. Reached for her during the Battle of the Bastards. Brought her pudding on this very night.

“No one as beautiful and strong and free as you could ever be wrong.” Tormund was a simple man. To him, Everly was who she was. She was not her mother or her father or any other that had come before her or would come after. She was the woman who made his soul ache. Made his heart break every time she looked sad or lost. Made his blood boil every time she was treated less than the Queen she was.

“Perhaps it is the wine or how soft you look at me and how soft you touch me but-”

“May I please kiss you, Everly?” She nodded and stayed still as he leaned over the edge of the tub and pressed his lips against hers. Tormund moved his hands slowly to cup both of her cheeks, giving her the chance to object before settling there. Her reaction was quite the opposite. Everly leaned forward until the wooden basin was digging into the soft skin of her chest yet she still pushed closer in the hopes she could get more. More of his lips. More of his touch. More of Tormund.

“Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Please, Tormund.” All he really wanted to do was continue kissing her but he followed her request out of respect. She placed her hand over his eyes for good measure, checked to make sure his beautiful blue eyes were squeezed shut, then quickly stepped out of her bath. Tormund held his breath at the sound of sloshing water and ehr gentle footsteps. They meant she was on full display if he opened his eyes. He does not know a time in his life that required more willpower than keeping his eyes closed did in that moment. Everly quickly grabbed her silk robe from where she had thrown in over her dressing screen and tied it around her waist with shaking hands. “You can open now.” Tormund did so slowly in order to still make sure it was what she wanted and once he did, he was left wondering how she looked more mouthwateringly gorgeous clothed than she had naked.

“That looks very nice on you.” He swallowed thickly as Everly walked over and offered him her hand.

“I thought kissing might be easier without the basin between us.” It was her who took the lead now. Her hands felt like heaven as they cupped the back of his head and guided his lips back to hers. It was easier and it was better. It gave Tormund the opportunity to hold her entire body closely against his. She molded against him easily. His hair was softer than she had imagined it would be. The mere thought made her blush. It was rare she got caught fantasizing about a man. It seemed like such a childish thing to do. But Tormund made her feel like anything but a child.

“I have been thinking about you, like this, since Hardhome.”

“Just since Hardhome?” Everly had been flush with romantic thoughts since one of their very first meetings in the cells of Castle Black.

“For some reason,” he gently tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, “I had viewed you as my enemy back then. It wasn’t until Hardhome that you became my Wildflower.” He knew he had no right to be possessive towards. Had no right to attempt to claim her as his own.

“I know you lost much of your brethren that night at Castle Black, but I couldn’t be happier you chose to invade that night, Tormund Giantsbane.” She smiled up at him. It was her first genuine smile since arriving in Winterfell. All of them that had graced her face since her arrival in the North had been gifted to him. He cherished these gifts more than he would any other.

“And I am thankful you were able to survive your journey from your home.” Everly shook her head.

“It was never my home. Just walls that kept me in and others out. I am still searching for my home.” If she survived the battle with the dead, she was going to make the journey to Casterly Rock and if that didn’t feel like home, maybe Storm’s End would. Anywhere besides King’s Landing. Anywhere she might welcomed. “Will you show me yours when this is all over?” Instead of answering, Tormund pulled her back against him with such ferocity that her toes her left dragging against the ground in her attempt to match him. Everly settled for resting her feet on top of his but it still didn’t feel close enough.

“Do you trust me?” She nodded and he began to slowly walk her backwards until they landed on the bed. 

“Now height is not an issue,” she breathed with a laugh as she used the new equality to take control of their kiss. Her legs fell open to accommodate him in between and she pulled away with a gasp as his groin rutted against hers by accident. “Tormund.” His eyes snapped up to hers at the breathy moan of his name.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t-” He thought he had ruined everything. He had taken it too far. Had taken advantage of her willingness to be open with him.

“Do not apologize. It felt...it felt good. So good.” She had coaxed such sensations from between her legs with her own fingers before. But she had never had a man, much less one she cared for, elicit them. It felt different. But right. Everything with Tormund felt right. She was not scared of him the way she had been other men. He never puffed his chest in an attempt to intimidate her. He gave her the power in their relationship, whatever the status of it was, and showed her more respect than any supposed cultured man had.

“Maybe-” Tormund’s proposition was cut off by a knocking at the door.

“Everly, I am sorry about what happened at the feast. Please let me in.” It was Jon. Before she even had time to react, Tormund was removing himself from the bed and making his way towards the door. “Listen, I-Tormund?” Jon peeked around him to see Everly lying in bed in just her robe, her hair slightly mussed and her cheeks burning red. 

“I appreciate the visit, Jon, I really do. I am feeling much better now than I did at dinner.” Jon looked to the ginger man with a narrowed gaze.

“Tormund.” It sounded like a warning. Jon didn’t have romantic feelings for the Lannister woman but felt he had adopted her as a sister. He felt protective of her and knew the love Tormund had for women.

“We are just kissing, crow.” Tormund smiled at the little giggle that fell from Everly’s lips at his confession. 

“Goodnight, Jon. I will see you tomorrow for our archery lesson.” 

“I’d tell you to stay warm but…” Jon left before he could finish his quip, the door slamming as soon as he turned away.

“You’re taking weapons lessons with that one?”

“Just archery. Perhaps you could show me what it is that you know.” Tormund quirked up an eyebrow.

“Oh don’t worry, Wildflower. We have forever for that.”

**Author's Note:**

> send in any requests for future stories with these two!


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